She sits before her altar
Sullen eyes, worn and weary
Facing the music, stirring keys
To days now past
Each note slides
From her fingers,
In rhythm with
Tears upon her cheek
A distant saxophone's solemn prayer,
consoles the mourning ivories
Melodies of Memories
Recalled with each chord
Relived with each crescendo
Bittersweet as the wine upon her lips
And so she plays -
For the furtive glances, long since gone
For the songs, no longer sung
For the guitar that no longer weeps
For the past, in which she keeps... |
Submission Name: Forgotten Jazz
